Photograph
by nilesalt
Summary: Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart. Multi-shot. Inspired by Ed Sheeran's 'Photograph'.
Hey, guys! This is an idea I've had for a long time. It stems from yet another song (Ed Sheeran, this time) because I just love 'Photograph' to bits (and yes, this fic is named after the song). There are a few lines of the song for each chapter and each few lines is about a character who I feel links to the lyrics. The characters in this multi shot are from all three generations. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the Harry Potter universe. Neither do I own the lyrics to Ed Sheeran's 'Photograph'.

* * *

 _Loving can hurt_

 _Loving can hurt sometimes_

 _But it's the only thing that I know_

\- Ed Sheeran

* * *

He hadn't expected to find himself opening the door to his old bedroom for the first time in twenty years. Sirius had come to Number 12 Grimmauld Place to see if it was fit for housing people once again for the Order. In fact, he had only meant to inspect the first three floors, wanting to avoid the uppermost floor where his and Regulus' bedroom's were situated. The dusty corridors and hallways seemed familiar and foreign to him at the same time. Sirius had sworn never to enter this house again, but he knew that there would be a time when he would have to return to the place where most of his bad memories were formed. Not that Sirius would admit it, but there was also an inkling of curiosity to see if his room had changed. Hence, Sirius gave in and opened the door labelled 'Sirius Orion Black'

To his satisfaction, the red and gold hangings and banners were still draped around his room. His Permanent Sticking Charm was clearly working as well as ever. At the rebellious age of sixteen, he wanted to leave his Gryffindor pride as an everlasting reminder for his parents to know that despite the years of pure blood regime drummed into his head, he would always remain the 'white sheep' of the Black family. He wanted his room to be the odd one out, just like him, in a house full of green and silver.

During his third year at Hogwarts, he collected as many banners and hangings as possible. Then in the summer, he put his newly learned Permanent Sticking Charm to use when he spelled all the hangings to attach to every nook and cranny on the walls of his room. It had earned him three days in the cellar with only a small plate of food every day, but it was worth it when Sirius almost felt as if he was sleeping in his Hogwarts dorm with red and gold everywhere.

As Sirius moved towards the window to open the moth-eaten curtains, the dust flew up beside him, creating small storms of old memories and grime rising to the surface. He pulled apart the curtains, only to find the windows covered with dirt, resembling tinted glass. Casting a quick _Sourgify_ shed some more light in the dim room. Sirius' eyes caught a collection of pictures stuck on the wall. During the year, he had permanently stuck so many pictures on the wall that he could hardly even see the wallpaper. Most were wizarding pictures so parts of his walls looked like one of those Muggle magic boxes with moving people in them.

Sirius gravitated towards the wall, manoeuvring his way across his room. He smirked as his eyes ran over the Muggle poster with scantily clad girls in bikinis, an impish twinkle returning to his eyes. The twinkle remained until his gaze snagged on a picture of two boys he knew too well. The laughing face of his best friend grinned back at Sirius. No, James wasn't just his best friend. James was his partner in crime. His confidant. His brother. But James was also dead.

Sirius slapped his palm against the wall. Dust rained onto his hair and clothes. He raised his head to look at the picture once again. He saw his fourteen-year-old self with an arm slung over James' shoulder, their carefree attitude radiating off them almost blinding Sirius' eyes.

His vision became blurred and he realized to his shock that he was tearing up. Sirus flinched and felt his traitorous tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, leaving salty, sorrow filled tracks on his cheeks.

Sirius never cried. Walburga would never let him. He would be caned if she caught him crying, and would be forced to bear the pain of the whips until he could stand with his back straight, palm out, not a whimper escaping his mouth or a twitch showing on his face.

* * *

Thwap _. A strangled cry echoed in the kitchen. A boy of ten years was bent over, clutching his hand which was sporting a straight white line right across the palm._

" _Are you crying?" A tall woman wearing moss-green robes and a pinched merciless expression was holding a thin cane, towering above the small boy._

" _N-no, mother," came the trembling reply. The boy met his mother's glare, eyes full of terror._

" _Stuttering is a dreadful habit,"_

Thwip _. The boy stifled a gasp as he felt the sting of the cane on his hand once more. The sting never came immediately. He always heard the swish and crack of the cane in the air first, like one of the house elves apparating. Then, a moment later came the pain. A bright red, poker hot pain that made his hand feel like it was on fire._

" _Are you crying?"_

" _No" His voice broke halfway and he received another whip._

" _Are you crying?"_

" _No!" This time, his answer was clear, angry, almost on the verge of defiant._

" _Good. Blacks never cry. Crying means you're weak"_

 _Another whip. The boy gritted his teeth, but he made no sound._

" _Are you weak, boy?"_

" _No"_

" _Good"_

* * *

 _Thwip._

Sirius gasped and felt his hand burn from a non-existent wound. He looked down. His hand was clenched. Sirius opened it. The scar was almost unnoticeable against his pale skin, but he knew some wounds ran much deeper.

His mother had said that 'Blacks never cry', but James had taught him differently. James had said that crying was a show of emotion. It was humane. It was natural. But ever since that day at Godric's Hollow, Sirius had never shown emotion. In Azkaban, he never cried. Not even when the memories were consuming him and he was forced to transform into his Animagus form.

Sirius looked up and the picture, every small detail burning into his memory.

" _Blacks never cry!"_

He could feel the tears streaming down his face, mixing with the dust.

"C _rying means you're weak"_

Sirius broke down. He broke down for the first time since that fateful night. He broke down because his best friend, his brother was dead. Sirius was alive but broken.

He would be weak.

* * *

Reviews are better than hot chocolate with marshmallows!

The next few lyrics are:

 _When it gets hard_

 _You know it can get hard sometimes_

 _It is the only thing that makes us feel alive._

Try guess who's coming up next!


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